


Overdo

by victor_fucking_hugo



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Courfeyrac, Alpha Enjolras, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, I'm Sorry Victor Hugo, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Grantaire, Omega Jehan, One-Sided Enjolras/Grantaire, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Grantaire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-05-19 23:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19366216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victor_fucking_hugo/pseuds/victor_fucking_hugo
Summary: “You--You what?”Grantaire huffed, blowing a curl out from inbetween his eyes while looking anywhere but at Enjolras, “I’m a fucking rut partner for an agency who assist in helping Alphas find filling Omegas to, well, assist them.”Enjolras’ jaw dropped. Of all the things he could imagine that someone as aggravating as Grantaire does in their free time, not in a million years would he even come close to this. “And that means…?Grantaire’s lips turned down as he let out an incredulous laugh, “Jesus fuck, piss head, what the fuck do you think that means?”Grantaire secretly works as a rut partner for Alphas who can’t find an Omega to assist them on their own and Enjolras is late overdo on his own rut.





	1. 1

Grantaire was a face down, ass up, and completely. Fucking. Over it.

It had been six days of this. Six. And all of Grantaire -- his mind, body, soul, body -- were completely worn out. Steadily, he breathed out his nose and arched his back as far as he could muster, taking each rough, uncoordinated thrust like a pro, alright.

A hand suddenly pressed down on his back, roughly pushing him deeper into the sheets and Grantaire tried his best not to squirm. It was already difficult to breath steadily with his face almost completely consumed by a pillow and his ass being pounded like he was being punished, but he managed--had been managing. 

The panting above him, the hot breath creeping down his neck, the rough hands pushing down his back and gripping his hip so hard that he’d be sure to bruise there all felt like too much but at the same time not enough. His omega instincts were at war with his own mind that craved sweet relief and pleasure while also wanting nothing more than to please the alpha. It was, to say in simple terms, annoying. He was used to this and no one had ever said he wasn’t good at it but it was only when the alpha changed his angle, hitting Grantaire’s prostate instead of just mindlessly pounding into him, that Grantaire finally got the reminder of why he kept doing this shit.

Helping an alpha through their rut -- no one said it was an easy job and it wasn’t… but legal sex that you got paid for could never beat any job Grantaire had ever had.

“Fuck,” Grantaire breathed, titling his neck ever so subtly that the alpha above him couldn’t contain a growl before sinking his teeth the juncture of his shoulder. Grantaire let out a gasp that quickly turned into a pleased moan when the alpha laved his tongue over the mark, “Fucking--finally man. Thought - ah - I was just another fuck toy for a second there--”

The alpha’s teeth were suddenly back on his shoulder, growling lowly and Grantaire got the message loud and clear. Quite, omega. He rolled his eyes and let his fingers curl deeper into the sweaty sheets. 

A pleased hum left the alpha as he once again went back to licking and rubbing his fucking beard all over Grantaire’s neck. Fucking beard burn. Grantaire had to remember to change his profile restrictions at the agency after this rut. There really wasn’t a market for alphas who didn’t want to leave bites and scratches all over the omega assisting them, but the least they could do is shave and spare Grantaire’s neck and ass cheeks the trouble of dealing and covering it up when it was all over.

It was only another minute or two before the alphas breathes became raged, tiny growls escaping from the back of his throat as he positioned both of his hands upon Grantaire’s hips, hiking them up and pounding into his with abandon. Grantaire couldn’t help it and let out of throaty cry with almost each thrust. His hand shot out to the wall inches away to keep his face from slamming into the plaster, his chest heaving with each breath he was able to intake. He tried his best in moments like these to keep his noises as minimal as possible, to keep the whole thing as professional as possible. But there was only so much he could muster when a horny alpha in rut with too much adrenaline in his system was fucking him within an inch of his life. He reached down and gripped his dick tightly and threw his head back, nearly wailing. 

The alpha nearly collapsed on top of him when his knot popped, tying them together. Grantaire came soon after that, a combination of his own hand on his dick and the alpha filling him up to the brim and making him feel so full he thought he might burst. It took both of them a second to recuperate, but soon the alpha was lifting himself off Grantaire and rolling them over onto their sides. A strong, sweaty arm draped itself around Grantaire’s chest immediately, holding him tightly.

The alpha snuffed Grantaire’s tangled hair, his hands roaming over his stomach and down towards his ass where they’d be tied together for at least a half hour, “‘Mega. Mine. Mine.”

“Mm-hmm. Whatever buddy.” Grantaire mumbled. The alpha droned on, a litany of grunts, declarations, and praises before Grantaire eventually turned it all out and fell asleep.

 

*

 

After another three rounds (one in the shower… accidentally… because, well, Grantaire needed a shower and that was the only way he was going to get it) the rut-haze wore off and the alpha Grantaire had met only a week and a half prior, Jamie, woke up looking like he was stepping out of some type of dreamland.

“Jesus,” Jamie’s hand reached towards Grantaire, but stopped at the last second like he was unsure if it was okay to touch him now that his rut was over. They were both dressed and the clothes clung awkwardly to both of them, unused to having to be dressed and decent. “I didn’t -- Oh, God -- I’m--I’m so, so sorry, R. I didn’t--”

Grantaire laughed, his voice still hoarse from the week of non-stop fucking. A week. Jesus, Grantaire hadn’t had an alpha’s rut last that long since he started helping alpha’s through their ruts around a year ago. “Jamie darling, you are fine. Nothing I ain’t used to.”

Jamie looked unsure, and a little disturbed, but tried his best to return Grantaire’s smile. Grantaire took great care in wrapping his thick scarf tightly around his neck as he shrugged on his coat and continued down the hallway towards the back door. Jamie following him like a lost puppy the whole way.

“I just.. I--thank you, really. I’ve never done it with--with someone like this before and--and well since Layla--I--” Jamie trailed off, rubbing his shoulder awkwardly. He looked so unsure, so unlike the alpha that had nearly drowned Grantaire in the bathtub trying to get his dick inside him just two days ago. That had growled orders that Grantaire’s omega instincts had no choice but to listen and bend to. That had forced Grantaire to eat from his fingers or he didn’t eat for the entire week. It made Grantaire smile, the irony of it all.

“I get it.” Grantaire said. “It can be difficult for an alpha to… adjust after being with only one other partner for so long.”

“They told me it would be bad, uh, transitioning. But I--I just couldn’t do it alone anymore. I’m sorry I--if I knew I’d get so aggressive and--and--I would never have--”

“Take a deep breath, hun.” Grantaire said. This guy was young, younger than Grantaire anyway. Young alphas were more hormonal, their bodies demanding that they reproduce and Grantaire was prepared for that. Whole-heartedly. Grantaire tried to explain this to the guy without sounding like he was his parents giving him the talk. 

“Okay,” Jamie said, small smile back on his face. He really was quite attractive, Grantaire thought, blue eyes, blonde hair… too straight though and too much product in it. Grantaire vaguely remembers trying to run his hands through it all multiple times throughout the rut. He had even struggled to remember his name and had to catch himself multiple times when Jamie’s piercing blue eyes looked too closely at him. Too familiar for his liking.

Another thing to add to his lists of restrictions that he had been purposely putting off: no blue eyes, no blondes.

Jamie apologized about a dozen more times before Grantaire left, particularly about the multiple bites and hickeys on his neck and the inside of his thighs. Grantaire had laughed off most of them and left the kid with a kiss on his cheek after turning down his offer to walk him to the bus stop before leaving.

Grantaire waited by the bus stop with a cigarette stuck between his fingers, an old lady glaring at him from the bench, crinkling her nose at the thick rut scent still clinging to his skin. It was more than obvious that she was an omega with her pirstine turtleneck and gold chain with a big fat ‘O’ in the middle. A tradition that had died away nearly twenty years ago amongst the younger generation. Grantaire smiled and threw her a wink that she scoffed at making his smile grows wider.

 

*

 

Enjolras had barely been up for more than fifteen minutes when a knock came. He was in the middle of taking a long gulp from his coffee while also trying to read the headlines of the first article that he pulled up onto his monster of a computer. He tried not to startle too much. After all, it wasn’t like he didn’t hear the bounding feet the moment the person stepped out of the elevator and onto his floor. He just didn’t expect those footsteps to stop in front of his door… of all the way more tolerable in the morning and overall happier people on his apartment complex.

Still, that didn’t stop him from setting his cup down and lugging himself towards the door--plaid pajama pants, disastrous curls, and all--and throwing it open and--

\--and honestly. Enjolras knew he must still be half asleep when he saw Jehan standing before him. How on earth he didn’t recognize the distinct sound of his heartbeat and the all too familiar skip in his step--Enjolras will probably never know.

“Jehan--”

“Smell me,” Jehan cut him off, his smile too wide to be real. His hair was trailing down his back in a long braid and, like Enjolras, he still appeared to be in his sleep wear. A button down flannel that reached down to nearly his knees--Courfeyrac’s shirt then--and fluffy slippers with cartoon bunny heads on them. 

Enjolras blinked. “What.”

“Just,” Jehan said, closing his eyes tightly and shaking his hands sporadically, “do it! Please.”

Enjolras cocked one eyebrow and went to take a breath to speak but stopped midway. His nostrils flared in a rude and completely invasive way and it was beyond Enjolras’s control. It was an automatic reaction to smelling a different scent on someone who he had known for years, had been able to memorize, and came to know the scent nearly by heart for years. Enjolras’s brain went a little haywire as it tried to comprehend what was so different. It’s just Jehan. Normal and sweet-smelling Jehan. He broke it down quickly in his head.

The scent of flowers--mostly peonies, Jehan’s personal favorite--was still there along with the underlying smell of sugar that nearly all omegas possessed. Enjolras took another breath while Jehan waited patiently, his eyes grew wider as he watched. This time Courfeyrac’s scent was there. Also not weird. Mated couples were expected to smell like one another and smelling the subtle scent of apple cider and pine trees lingering on Jehan wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary. 

Although--Enjolras took another breath--it might be a little heftier on Jehan than normal, like he had just spent the last hour rolling around in a bunch of Courfeyrac’s work shirts. Also--another breath and this time the tip of Enjolras’s nose was almost touching Jehan’s neck, his nose unconsciously moving forward as he tried to identify what’s so different--there was a sweetness there. A scent that Enjolras would guess reminded him of an omega in heat, but not one that was in the midst of it or even about to go through one. He--

He--Jehan--smelled bred, good and thoroughly. 

He realized this with a start and pulled back immediately, his cheeks flushed red at the thought. He opened his mouth, but closed it again, unable to articulate what he was smelling without doubling over in mortification and something akin to embarrassment. He settled on leaning back and pulling his nose as far as possible from this new smell lingering off Jehan. 

But it wasn’t until tears of joy started trailing down Jehan’s face that is all clicked.

“Oh,” Enjolras mumbled as Jehan nodded. “Jehan you’re… “

Jehan didn’t wait till he finished, just launched himself into Enjolras’s arms in a flurry of tears and laughs and Enjolras held him back tightly. While grasping Enjolras’s shoulders, Jehan began rambling, “I-I--we’ve been trying for my past two heats and--and I don’t know! This morning I just had this feeling you know so I took a test and--and fuck! Courf has been upstate taking care of his mom for the past week and a half and--and when he gets back Enj he’s gonna--he’s gonna die! E, I just had to see if you could tell and--and you can! And, oh shit, I can’t believe it… I’m… fuck, I’m….Courf is gonna….so happy, he’ll be so happy Enj… there’s so much to do! I have to call my parent and our friends and everyone and… ”

He trailed on and off again for the next ten or so minutes and Enjolras just held him tight, laughing and maybe even crying a little bit with him.

 

*

News of Jehan’s unexpected pregnancy spread like wildfire amongst them all. Grantaire was at a cafe, laughing at Bahorel while he tried to balance a spoon on his fairly new broken nose, when Feuilly suddenly spit out nearly a mouthful of lukewarm coffee all over the surface of the table. 

They both jumped up and let out noises of disgust, but before Bahorel could slug the ginger over the head Feuilly shouted, “Jehan is fucking pregnant!”

Grantaire and Bahorel made eye contact with one another before looking back down at Feuilly’s beaming face, his phone clutched tightly in his grasp with Jehan’s all-too-familiar voice still rambling from the speaker. It took them all another five seconds to truly take in the situation before they were all out of their seats and hollering loudly in the small cafe. People threw them dirty looks, especially when Bahorel ended up flipping one of their chairs over with just one poorly placed kick. Grantaire gripped his hair from his roots and shook his head back and forth, a smile so wide on his face that it hurt. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Feuilly hopping over the counter before rushing past a scandalized looking employee, hollering Musichetta’s name as he raced towards the kitchen in the back. 

 

*

The next Musain meeting a mere days later was hardly anything but that. As soon as Jehan made his entrance, Courfeyrac’s arm slung over his shoulders, everyone in the Amis started cheering as if a couple celebrities had just stopped by. Jehan’s cheeks flushed a terrible red, but the wide smile on his face showed that he was anything but embarrassed. Courfeyrac grip on Jehan tightened as he raised his other hand, letting out a joyful cry that had everyone whooping and cheering all over again as they crowded around the pair.

Miraculously, Marius was someone in the front of the crowd and wasted no time lowering himself down so he was face to face with Jehan’s still flat stomach. Grantaire barely had enough time to hall Marius up with a, “man, don’t. Too soon,” before throwing an arm around his shoulders to stop him from doing something else inappropriate. 

Grantaire’s eyes lingered over the Amis, all smiles and loud voices. Combeferre’s hand was on Courfeyrac’s shoulder, a small congratulations that seemed to brighten Courfeyrac’s whole world. Joly was already hovering over Jehan, probably asking him a dozen health questions as well as due dates and what he could do to help and a lot of other little details that Jehan was too happy to be overwhelmed with. Bahorel was definitely towards the back of the surrounding group, but his voice boomed over all of them, a litany of, “Well done, guys, well done,” and “I knew you had it in, ya. Spare me the details though” and “I’ll be the best uncle this world has ever seen.” 

The meeting started around ten minutes later with Enjolras dropping a hefty stack of manila folders at the head of the table. That was enough to quite everyone down a bit, but as soon as Enjolras cleared his throat and said, “Settle down” the room instantly became silent, everyone’s attention directed towards him.

Grantaire couldn’t hold back a snort. Enjolras didn’t hesitate to send a glare his way.

“We can continue celebrating after the meeting is adjourned. Let’s get started.”

The room let out a few moans and grunts of disapproval, but no one could argue. Not with Enjolras at least.

Once everyone had gotten settled in their usual places Enjolras didn’t hesitate to speak, words flowing out of him that inspired and soared as if it was his sole purpose in the world. And who knows? As far as Grantaire was concerned, no one could outspeak or even come close to trumping Enjolras’ flare for igniting a fire within the minds and hearts of those he spoke to. That’s not to say he hadn’t tried before… multiple times... multiple unsuccessful times that were ultimately somehow wonderful and terrible all wrapped together.  
Enjolras was a pretentious fuck. Grantaire had learned this long ago along with the fact that he couldn’t get enough when it came to pissing the guy off. It was addicting in the most stupidest, childish way but somehow still seemed to make Grantaire fill with glee whenever he was able to completely derail the guy with just one negative comment. It was a gift, some would say. He was just happy that Enjolras was too prideful to ever man up and tell Grantaire to get the fuck out. Any sane or normal person would’ve done so years ago. But alas, in Grantaire’s eyes at least, Enjolras was anything but sane and normal.

Enjolras had been speaking for a few minutes when Bahorel had nudged his shoulder and whispered, “Hey, where were you this weekend? Eponine and I had extra tickets for that boxing match downtown.”

Grantaire looked down at his fingers, picking at his cuticles idly, “Busy.”

Bahorel scoffed quietly, “Busy. Busy enough to miss a pay per view fight. You’re high.”

“Probably.”

And that should’ve been the end of it if Bahorel wasn’t a nosy, pushy asshole. “Come on man. What’s up? You got something you ain’t telling me? So much for being blood brothers”

“Only you and Courf are dumb enough to even entertain that idea, dumbass.”

“Yeah, well, Courfeyrac’s daddy-ing up or whatever. I need a new partner in crime.”

Grantaire couldn’t hold back a snort, “I’m sure Bossuet would be delighted.”

“Bossuet is more of a cupcake than Joly and you know it.” Bahorel grinned, “Now spill. Let me in on what’s what before I have to make a scene.”

And Bahorel certainly would. Grantaire knew this for a fact from unfortunate past experiences when Bahorel found himself left out of the loop.

He groaned, “Fuck you. That’s what.”

Bahorel finished off his beer, sighing loudly, “Nope, while I’m flattered R unfortunately we have not moved to that point in our friendship where we’re fucking.” Grantaire looked up just in time to catch the smirk form on Bahorel’s lips, “but you’re definitely getting it from someone if those marks are anything to go by.”

A flare of panic raced through Grantaire and before he had time to process his actions he was slapping a hand down over his neck. 

Everyone’s eyes and attention were suddenly on him, eyes wide and confused. Enjolras’ voice had stopped and his eyes were now piercing through Grantaire. He had enough sense to at least look sheepish as he slowly lowered his hand, a wry smile on his lips.

Enjolras tilted his head, unamused, “Got something you need to add, Grantaire?”

Grantaire coughed, “Nope boss. The floor’s yours. As always.”

Courfeyrac and Eponine were childish enough to snicker, but everyone else turned their attention back to Enjolras who left him with nothing but one more angry look before continuing as if nothing ever happened. Grantaire rolled his eyes and muttered, “piss head fuck,” before kicking Behaorel’s leg under the table roughly.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More plot. More Grantaire being a good rut partner while Enjolras' is busy being a good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to finish this. I will guys I promise. But you also know me and my lack of motivation to do anything sometimes. DON'T LET ME QUIT.

  
  


It all started as a joke, really.

 

Eponine had always been his drinking buddy, way before either of them had met Bahorel, Feuilly, Joly, and a handful of the other Amis. She was his right hand man throughout high school and had been through thick and thin with him. She didn’t give a fuck that he was a drunk and had barely bat an eye when he presented. And in return Grantaire never questioned her whenever she showed up at his doorstep at ungodly hours with Azelma, Gavroche, and an overnight bag in tow. They were close enough that some things never had to be discussed, they just understood each other. 

 

A lot of things didn’t need to be said. Serious sit downs and cries weren’t their thing and Grantaire had to learn that the hard way when he became an avid attender of the Amis and their meetings. Joly and Jehan could spot a problem from a mile away and wouldn’t hesitate to leap hurdles in order to make Grantaire bear his fucking soul to them. Not that he didn’t appreciate it sometimes, he knew they meant well but at the end of the day it relieved him more than anything to spend a shitty day not talking about why it was shitty with Eponine and a few drinks.

 

Serious, real-life things weren’t spoken about, so when him and Eponine were taking their normal three in the morning walk home after a couple too many drinks Grantaire didn’t bat an eye when Eponine out of blue started laughing and said, “Hey, here’s that job opportunity that you’ve been waiting to stumble upon.”

 

And stumble he did, literally and figuratively, as he scooted over to the call board outside a closed down coffee shop. A flurry of fliers awaited him and it took his intoxicated mind a couple of seconds to find what Eponine was laughing about. 

 

The flier was simple-looking enough. It wasn’t until he started reading the details that his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he read, “Looking for responsible, trustworthy Omegas willing and able to support their fellow other dynamic through  _ their time.”  _

 

His voice went deep and serious at the end making Eponine explode into a flurry of giggles, “Oooohh, their  _ sensitive time,  _ huh?”

 

Grantaire smiled, “Guess so.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and handed on to Eponine who was already digging through her purse for a lighter. “Guess even strong, independent Alphas need a helping hand sometime, huh?”

 

Eponine rolled her eyes, “Shut up.”

 

“Only when it involves making sure they have something to stick their knot in though.”

 

Eponine smirked at that before lighting her cigarette, her face momentarily illuminated in the dark of the night, “Hey, I’ve heard you make good money off that shit though. Yeah it’s crazy, and a little sketchy   but Cosette was telling me that before she met Marius she dated an Omega who was down with that kinda stuff before they started dating. Kinda uppity about it--like she was doing the world a great service or some shit--but whatever. Money is money at the end of the day.” When Grantaire remained silent Eponine blew out a plume of smoke and Grantaire watched with hazy eyes it swooped around the mop of curls tied loosely at the top of her head, the fading purple streaks in her hair becoming more noticeable, “Must hurt male Alphas precious egos if this agency is so desperate that they actually gotta put those fucking signs up outside of a coffee shop.”

 

“Hey, hey, woah there, hun.” After lighting up his own cigarette and taking a drag, Grantaire leaned back towards the flier, inspecting it closer. “Doesn’t say anything here specifying that they are just helping out knotheads. What do you say?” Grantaire ripped one of the little tags off the bottom of the flier before waving it in front of Eponine’s face, “You wanna give them a call?”

 

Eponine didn’t hesitate to whack Grantaire’s hand out of her face before threatening to knock his teeth out. Grantaire laughed way too loudly, not caring that it was far too early for the level of noise they were making. Someone from the apartment complex above them shouted at them to shut the fuck up, the voice was gravely and old like he had barely just woken up and that’s when Grantaire looked up, waving his hand around like the fucking drunk dumbass he was, “ _ Oi,  _ why don’t you come down here and make me, huh?”

 

Him, Eponine, and the random ass dude went back and forth for about a minute until the guy finally had enough and ended up chucking empty beer cans down their way, much to Grantaire’s delight. Sue him, he loved a good scuffle, Omega or not Grantaire always had an afinity for pissong people off that he shouldn’t. The whole ‘nurturing and calming’ aspect of his biology must have completely missed him somehow. 

 

Ep and him kicked stray beer cans at each other before their laughter subsided and Grantaire slung his arm around Eponine’s shoulder as they leaned on each other practically the whole walk back to his place, the agency completely forgotten.

 

It wasn’t until the next morning when Eponine’s alarm started blaring for her to get up and go to work, that Grantaire found himself shuffling around in his bed only to realize he hadn’t had the mind to even take off his clothes before him and Eponine had crashed. Eponine was already up and in the bathroom by the time Grantaire slung his shirt over his head and was shimmying out of his pants when something crumpled in his pocket. He paused for a moment before rubbing his bleary eyes and ripping the scrap of paper out of his pocket, hopeful that maybe he hadn’t wasted all his cash the night before. 

 

It took him a few seconds to even remember what he was looking at. It was just a phone number and the agency’s name, neither of which rang a bell before thoughts from the night before came flooding back. He smoothed the paper on his knee before looking at it again, his lip curling up in disgust. He crumpled up the paper in his fist and held it there for a moment while looking around his room. The carpet was coming up again. It was a shitty job the first time stapling it down or whatever the fuck the carpenter dude was supposed to ‘fix’ and Grantaire hadn’t been able to call them back about it for months. He was too busy being pissy about his heater breaking down for the third time that year. He heard the shower turn on in the bathroom and looked back only to see that the door was cracked open a bit and it was pitch dark in there. The lighting in a few rooms of his apartment hadn’t worked since he moved in--faulty wiring and all that. Another reason among countless others why the place was so goddam cheap. Just another thing that he added onto his big list of shit he couldn’t afford.

 

Suddenly the little ball of scrapped up paper felt heavier in his hands as Eponine’s words from last night buzzed back into his head.  _ Money is money at the end of the day.  _

 

Eponine came out of the shower a couple minutes later, hair heavy with water and makeup streaming down her tired eyes, “What the fuck?” When Grantaire didn’t answer, Eponine took cautious steps his way in her towel, her voice softer, “Hey, what’s on your mind?”

 

What ensued after that was a short conversation about how idiotic and stupid Grantiare was for even  _ thinking  _ that was an option for him. It was probably the first and only time Grantaire would hear Eponine have a serious talk to him about his well being and he was  _ fine  _ with that. But ultimately, it ended with her giving him a stern look and muttering, “Do what you gotta do, R. I--I won’t  _ tell  _ anybody, but if you get hurt--”

 

“Jesus, Ep. Can we not? I’m--I’m still thinking--”

 

“No you aren’t.” Eponine said with a roll of her eyes. She pulled on her blue work shirt and tied up her hair before trailing over to the bedroom door. “I know you, R and when you’ve made up your mind. That’s it.” She looks back at him one more time, eyeing his rolled up fist that hadn’t moved since he had crumpled it up. She met his eyes once more, “I gotta go. Let me know how that phone call goes when I get back.”

 

And with that she was gone and it took Grantaire at least another twenty minutes before he was able to get enough courage to call.

 

And that was a year ago. His carpet was fixed, his lighting in his whole apartment worked, he was able to fix up to an extra room as a place for Eponine and her siblings to crash, and he’s got a car now. Grantaire couldn’t exactly say he’s happy with how he had obtained the money and no one really asked him questions about it, but money was money and Grantaire didn’t think he could stop anytime soon. Didn’t want to. And that might be the scariest part of the whole ordeal.

 

*

 

The Amis spend the next week or two in on and off celebration. They have all experienced a lot together. Everything from raids, to protests, to legitimate change and newsworthy status. But a baby, a new life coming into all of their lives, had them all in constant excitement. Enjolras was almost worried about how little he was concerned with the lack of work they were getting done, but at the end of the day he almost couldn’t care, not with how glowing and energetic everyone seemed to be whenever Jehan or Courfeyrac barely stepped into a room. He couldn’t care because more often than not, albeit he was reluctant to admit it, he was right on board with all of them.

 

As the months go by more and more excitement was built upon the new arrival. Cosette and Joly were already planning a baby shower. Musichetta had somehow named a drink after the nameless baby. Feuilly had somehow found time in his schedule to construct a crib for the two that had Jehan crying and kissing Feuilly on both cheeks. 

 

But still, not everything lasts forever. It all went to shit four months later when Courfeyrac got promoted and had to go to a workshop for three months in D.C.

 

Enjolras watched the couple exchange goodbyes from the corner of his eye as he moved a couple of Jehan’s boxes into his apartment. There’s always been a spare room that Enjolras thought he might change into an office one day but never had the time. Letting Jehan use it as a temporary place to stay and sleep seemed like the best and most logical thing to do. Of course, Jehan could easily have stayed with any of their friends while Courfeyrac was away. Joly was a doctor and could’ve helped and coached Jehan through any pains and cramps and nausea that came with being nearly five months pregnant while Musichetta wouldn’t have been too far away to stop by and cook him meals that would settle his stomach. She had already made him and Courfeyrace a casserole every week to help them out. Hell, even letting him stay with Marius and Cosette would’ve worked. Cosette was like the ultimate mother and Marius, while annoying Enjolras more often than not, had taken a liking to treating Jehan like a princess whenever the pregnancy symptoms got to him but… none of them could really avoid the downright truth of the matter.

 

While they absolutely didn’t live in archaic times anymore where an Omega was expected to be nothing but doting, submissive, and completely reliant on an Alpha--Enjolras would get downright angry at the mere thought--they do live in a world where biology, unfortunately, controlled certain aspects of their lives. Being an Omega, and heavily pregnant on top of that, meant that Jehan’s hormone levels were completely out of whack and anything could set him off, not having his Alpha around only added to that possibility. Although medication could help soothe and calm him, every doctor would tell them that the best cure was the presence of a trustworthy, unmated Alpha.

 

His mate would be most idle, of course, but any close Alpha friend or family would do for a short period of time. And with Musichetta and Cosette both being mated Alphas, and Bahorel and Eponine being straight up out of the question due to their heavy work schedules…. Enjolras, whether he liked it or not, was the most ideal option. Not only because he was an Alpha, but Enjolras had known Jehan far longer than anyone else in the Amis, minus Combeferre. They were close and Jehan would feel calm around an old friend, at least that is what they hoped. 

 

Still, it pained Enjolras watching the two of them exchange goodbyes.

 

“Nooooooooo,” Jehan moaned into Courfeyrac’s coat. The smell of his salty tears was barely noticeable, but they still stung Enjolrs’ nose all the same. 

 

Courfeyrac forced a smile onto his face, a small one, but one that definitely insinuated that he was trying to calm Jehan down even though he was just as restless. He grabbed both of Jehan’s hands from around his neck and gently pulled them away, “Yesssss,” he mimicked before pecking Jehan’s pouting lips. “I’ll be back before you know it, flower. Back before this guy even  _ thinks  _ about making an appearance without me.”

 

“Forget about the promotion.” Jehan mumbled and they both know he didn’t mean it and would never say it to his face if it wasn’t due to the circumstances. They’d both been waiting for this promotion for Courfeyrac for  _ years.  _ “I’ll get a second job. Money is for suckers. Fuck our econmy.”

 

“Agreed, agreed.” Courfeyrac said with a laugh and a kiss on the end of Jehan’s nose. “But, although Enj hasn’t figured out how to completely fix our shitty government yet,” he said with a glint in his eye that made Jehan smile up at him, “this little money monster is gonna have us running rampant pretty soon here whether we like it or not.”

 

As if the words he spoke sparked a catalyst within him, Courfeyrac gently lowered Jehan into a sitting position onto one of Enjolras’s couches and got on his knees in between his mate’s legs. Jehan swatted playfully at a particularly long strand of his hair when Courfeyrac ducked in close, shucking up Jehan’s t-shirt and running the cold tip of his nose along Jehan’s jutted out stomach. Enjolras barely had time to clear his throat and turn away, a flush running up the back of his neck due the feeling of him intruding on something despite being in his own home.

 

It felt like forever, but eventually the rumbling in Courfeyrac’s chest stopped and he pecked Jehan’s stomach one last final time. Enjolras winced in sympathy when Courfeyrac pulled away and helped Jehan up. His face was twisted, but Enjolras could tell he was fighting off whatever restlessness was building up within him at the prospect of leaving his mate and child. Enjolras had never had kids and probably wouldn’t ever, but he was still an Alpha. An Alpha that could sympathize and sort of understand what his friend was going through.

 

They kissed, whined, scented each other, and hugged before Courfeyrac had to leave if he wanted to catch his flight. He took Enjolras’ hand when he was walking through the door and whispered, low enough so only they could hear it, “Take care of them. I trust you more than anyone else to do so.”

 

Enjolras blinked in surprise, completely not used to hearing Courfeyrac sound so serious. It’s as if the crazy, always ready to get himself in trouble or arrested on campus, college student that Enjolras had met so long ago had finally shed his skin and stepped into a new one. One that was hurting and worried and anxious and was  _ trusting  _ Enjolras. So, Enjolras nodded and made sure to maintain eye contact and try and help sooth Courfeyrac’s trepidation. For good measure, he even promised to call him and keep him updated. Courfeyrac waved once more at the both of them before he was off.

 

“Alright,” Jehan said once they were alone. There was a waver in his voice, one that made Enjolras’ hackles rise, but he suppressed the urge to bring it up, “I know it’s only three months, but I brought  _ a lot  _ of shit, my friend.”

 

“I noticed.” 

 

“Uh-huh. And guess who's gonna be my big, strong alpha and help me put it all away?”

 

Enjolras could take a wild guess.

 

*

 

“Do you have to go, R?”

 

Grantaire smiled, his hefty bag already slung over his shoulders. It was way heavier than when he arrived nearly four days ago with nothing more than suppressants and a couple changes of clothes. He could already feel the numerous amounts of tupperware digging into his back as he shuffled back over to probably the tallest female Alpha he’d ever met in his life.

 

Tanya was nice, way nicer and way more controlled than he had experienced during his time assisting knotheads. She reminded him of Eponine with her multiple piercings, short black pixie cut hair, intricate tattoos, and overall confident and laid back demeanor. Every pore of her eminanted  _ Alpha  _ while not being too overbearing and annoying. 

 

Grantaire gave her a genuine smile, “Got work, honey. Believe it or not this gig pays well, but not enough to live off of.”

 

Not true. But saying that out loud was too scary to even think about. Having a normal job at the place he had a internship at was what kept him grounded. The thought of doing this full time felt… wrong. It was already such a big part of Grantaire’s life that the fact that it could easily consume his  _ whole  _ life sent shivers down Grantaire’s spine.

 

Tanya pouted, her multiple lip piercings poking out in a way that should look almost threatening Alpha, but somehow came off as a cute petulant child. “We’ll hang again soon, right? That doesn’t go against customer/patient policy, right?”

 

Grnataire grinned, “Absolutely does.” But he was already writing down his number on a small notepad on one of her side tables.

 

Tanya pushed her shoulder up and off the wall she had been leaning on to stand in front of Grantaire. She was huge, probably nearly six three, tall for a male Alpha let alone a female. She had mentioned at some point that she was a boxer, a professional one even and Grantaire had had to make it up to her all weekend for admitting that he didn’t really delve into Alpha female boxing. But after spending the last four days together, mostly joking around and cooking and playing video games, Grantaire had let all trepidation gravitating around her fall away immediately. 

 

“I appreciated this, R.” Tanya said, her voice taking an uncharacteristic serious tone, “Not a lot of these agencies even allow female Alphas to have you guys over, let alone someone as chill as you.” She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “Even the agency you work for… a lot of Omegas won’t even put helping females on their agreement. They think not all of us even need help, that we just wanna fuck around with them, like--like it’s some kind of competition with male Alphas or some bullshit. Can’t imagine where that got that fucking idea but…”

 

“That’s fucked.” Grantaire said earnestly as she trailed off. Female Alphas were almost shit on as much as Omegas in general. Just because they didn’t have the correct parts to knot didn’t mean that they didn’t go through a rut. A rut that can be infinitely better with just an Omega’s presence around to sooth them. Eponine would never ask him outright to help her, that’s not their thing, but if she lingered around without Azelma and Gav for a few days every couple months, reeking to high heaven of pheromones and wanting nothing more than to cuddle Grantaire and watch movies well, they didn’t talk about it. 

 

Grantaire hadn’t helped out many female Alphas in his time at the agency, but when he did it was pretty standard. Lots of cuddling, lots of talking, lot of scenting, sometimes fondling and a little more--the whole shabang. Which, in Grantaire’s eyes was beautiful. Same pay and minimal to no bruising, hickeys, or other marks that wouldn’t go away for days.

 

Still, that wasn’t to say he wasn’t pleasantly surprised when during the second night of his stay Tanya appeared in the bedroom they had been sleeping in wearing nothing but a strap on and a coy smile on her face.

 

Yeah, helping Tanya out was fun. Ten out of ten, would help again or whatever. 

 

Tanya breathed out a sigh, her hands on her slender hips, “Yeah. Nothing I’m not used to though. Seriously though, R, this has been the best. You’re a shit cook for an Omega.” Grantaire opened his mouth to protest, but Tanya cut him off. “But that almost helped.” Her smirk widened, “I got to  _ take care of youuuuu.  _ Helped soothe my  _ Alpha-y _ instincts and all.”

 

Grantaire laughed at that, knowing Tanya was being serious but also trying to make a joke out of it. “You make hella food, hun. I’m gonna be fed right for week.” Grantaire motioned to his bag making Tanya beam.

 

“Anytime, sweetheart. And hey, you scratched my back,” She dipped down lower to his height, a sly smile on her face, “You know where to find me if you ever need yours scratched.”

 

Grantaire ducked his head, laughing softly. “Will do, T.”

 

“I’m not kidding.”

 

“I know.”

 

They shared another smile before Tanya led him to the door with her hand firmly on the small of his back, her thumb running little circles into his skin. Alpha females were different. Since they technically couldn’t knot and breed an Omega during their rut their protective and nurturing instincts flew out of the roof. Grantaire couldn’t say he ever felt really cared for by other male Alphas during their ruts, that wasn’t the main goal, but Alpha females were a whole new game. Their rut lingered even after their cycle was officially over and an Omega was still in their presence.

 

It wasn’t flirting, Grantaire reassured himself, him and Tanya just clicked like him and Eponine did being an Omega and Alpha friendship. And even if it was, who gave a fuck? Grantaire might not be the biggest catch, but after a year of experience he was damn good at what he did.

 

“Bye R! Get home safe and pepper spray anyone who wrinkles their nose at you!”

 

Grantaire paused on the sidewalk, taking a curious sniff of his jacket. “I still smell like you, sex, and lasagna I’m guessing?”

 

Tanya smile, leaning against the door jamb, “Absolutely.”

 

They shared one last wave and laugh before Tanya disappeared and Grantaire headed towards the bus stop feeling sore but… but cared for. His stomach was full and his body had a limited amount of bruising, just a hickey or two that were so faint they’d be gone within a day or two. He realized suddenly that he felt satisfied, his Omega instincts making him feel dopey and cherished. He shook away the feeling with a shrug of his shoulders and continued, trying hard to not think too much on it. Sure, he was an Omega through and through and that took him longer to accept than what was probably healthy, but he wasn’t some bitch that would spend hours swooning over some Alpha he helped through their rut. His job would be hell if he wasn’t able to get out of that mindset the second he stepped out of their place. Rut over, job done, money on the way. That’s all it was.

 

When he returned home thirty minutes later Gavroche and Azelma were on his bed watching cartoons. Gav threw a cheeto his way, which someone he manged to catch and pop into his mouth, much to the boy’s delight. Eponine crinkled her nose at him, and shuffled in her position on her stomach on the bed.

 

“So, how’d it go?”

 

Grantaire sighed, dropped his bag and digging through it find a cherry pie that Tanya had made when he had been sleeping in late one morning. Waking up to the scent of cherries and Tanya’ deep rich pine scent had been heaven, “I had you wrong, Ep. Alpha females are the way to go.”

 

Eponine face suddenly glowed up as she reached for another cheeto, happily popping it into her mouth, “Damn straight.”


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras starts to break under the pressure. Grantaire is too busy reeling over the fact that Marius is somehow an Alpha to really notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still think this chapter needs more editing.... but I really wanted to get it out as soon as possible and keep fighting my writer's block lol. So here it is!

  
  
  
  


Enjolras loved his friends. Without them he’d be nothing, well, not  _ nothing,  _ but significantly less than what he felt when they were near. Their support and their drive toward his cause overwhelmed Enjolras in a way he couldn’t describe or really put into words, something he had never had trouble with in his past. He’d do anything for them in a heartbeat whether it be flash his eyes at some prick who was giving them trouble, punch someone for fucking with them, or come to their mother’s shitty bake sale and buy half of the stuff there just to make her happy.  _ But this-- _ Enjolras thought as he was woken up by the sound of Jehan’s whines once again-- _ was agony. _

 

It’d been nearly a week and Jehan hadn’t taken the adjustment of Courfeyrac being gone as well as they had hoped. They’d talk on the phone for hours and Jehan slept with his shirts on but nothing seemed to really soothe him. Even when Enjolras offered to sit next to him on the couch and made him soup Jehan claimed it just  _ wasn’t the same.  _ Which, it shouldn’t be, but still. Not being able to help Jehan--a pregnant Omega in distress--was causing Enjolras’s own biology to act up and was slowly making him lose his fucking  _ mind. _

 

Still, Jehan was his friend and Alpha or not Enjolras was going to do everything in his power to help him. So that’s what it was when Enjolras woke up for the third night in a row, trudging into Jehan’s room, and sat on the corner of his bed while holding his hands and whispering comforting things into his ear until he fell asleep again. It took around two hours, but eventually Jehan was able to doze off to the sound of Enjolras’s praise and his comforting Alpha scent.

 

It’s not much. And fuck if Courfeyrac were here he’d be able to make Jehan feel as right as rain by just kissing the top of his head, but he’s not, and Enjolras made a promise to take care of them. He planned to keep it up until Courfeyrac returned. Enjolras had received a plethora of criticism in his life, from friends and enemies alike, but devoting himself completely to something had never been one of them.

 

*

 

The first sign that something wasn’t right happened, strangely enough, after a meeting at the Musain.

 

The meeting was shorter that week and honestly? Grantaire didn’t mind all that much. He’d be a straight up liar to himself and anybody who attended the meetings regularly if he even uttered a word about not liking them. A chance to watch Enjolras rail on and on about ideas and opportunities only to smite them down as nothing but fantasties fueled Grantaire in a way that definitely wasn’t healthy. Not by a long shot. Being berated and shot dow like he was a fool by someone as confident and sure as Enjolras shouldn’t be an enjoyable experience by any means, but Grantaire was a sadistic mother fucker through and through who craved  _ anything  _ from Enjolras, anything he could get and if anger and distaste was it he’d take it gladly and without complaint. He stopped being freaked out and rejecting that idea years ago and now the thought was as simple and expected as anything else when he attended every meeting at the Musain. He was a beacon of chaos and when the opportunity arose it was as if someone had just offered him the sweetest tasting wine the world had ever known. There was absolutely no way he couldn’t reach and take it without a second thought.

 

This week though was somewhat of a disappointment and Grantaire was sure he had never described a meeting like that before. Exciting, yes. Thrilling, absolutely. Depressingly empty and hollow, more often than not these days. But even those days left him with  _ something.  _ Even Enjolras ordering him to drink water instead of gin if he even wanted to try and engage in a conversation with him left him with, well, with something from the man at the head of the table that always seemed so far out of his reach. 

 

It was depressing. Even more depressing if Grantaire thought too long about it which he took great care  _ not to,  _ thank you very much.

 

But this evening had ended strangely. Enjolras had seemed uncharacteristically distracted. It was as if he had been waiting for a crash a thunder outside to indicate that the storm was finally coming. No one mentioned it though when Enjolras called things off early. Enjolras was a busy  _ revolutionary _ . Lot of people to save and governments to destroy and all.

 

Grantaire had thought about leaving and calling it an early night, but that all changed when Bahorel pushed a drink his way while Bossuet shuffled cards next to him. He saw Eponine out of the corner of his eye asking the bartender for some poles to the pool table and that was it. He was hooked for the night.

 

He didn’t even notice Enjolras had stuck around. Not really. Well, as much as he could keep himself from noticing the guy. Enjolras was a tall, blond-headed bitch whose presence became instantly known whenever he entered a room. Long story short, the guy was intimidating and an Alpha and whether he was aware of it or not his scent wasn’t exactly subtle. 

 

Still, Grantaire was in for a good night and he planned to follow through with those plans. He had just lost in his second consecutive game of pool against Eponine and was already feeling the four shots he had taken due to the loss when Joly was suddenly there with a glass of water in his hand.

 

He didn’t wait for Grantaire to argue before thrusting the drink towards him, “Don’t argue, just drink.”

 

Grantaire rolled his eyes, but took the glass nonetheless, “I’ve had a couple shots, Joly.” And a couple beers before the meeting, maybe a mixed drink here and there during the meeting, but who was counting at that point? “You don’t have to mother hen me tonight.”

 

Joly scoffed, “I fall into that role more often than not, my friend.”

 

“Bossuet giving you trouble?”

 

Joly smiled, one that had Grantaire picturing hearts and sonnets floating around his head like some love sick Omega in a romance novel, “Not tonight, no.”

 

“Then who is keeping a drink out of Joly’s hand then, hmm? I’ll smite them.” Grantaire said lough enough for Eponine to laugh at him from across the pool table as she set up another game with Bahorel.

 

“No one, really. I--uh--just helping Enjolras out tonight is all.”

 

Grantaire’s eyed widened, “Our supreme leader has finally deemed you worthy enough for your assistance. Why, Joly, this is certainly an honor.” Grantaire swung his arm around Joly’s shoulders, “I’ll drink to that.”

 

Joly huffed and pushed Grantaire’s arm off, “Finish that water and then we’ll see.”

 

“We’ll see? You’re no fun. What great task has Enjolras set you out to accomplish that can’t wait till tomorrow, huh?” Grantaire honestly had no idea what could be so important. It was a Tuesday night, dammit, and Joly was one of the few Omegas in their little gaggle of friends that would party with him until the late hours of the night. Not that he needed another Omega with him to feel comfortable, but it was nice sometimes with the litany of Betas and Alphas he seemed to always be surrounded by. 

 

Joly bit his lip before shrugging his shoulders a bit, “You know Enj is, uh, helping Jehan out while Courfeyrac is away, right?” Grantaire nodded, and Joly continued, hesitantly, “Yeah, well, he asked me to come over after the meeting… nothing serious, of course, I think he is just worrying. Just, uh, wants to make sure everything is okay with Jehan. Separation between mates can be difficult and add a pregnancy onto that, well, I’m not surprised Jehan isn’t having the best time. I don’t doubt Enjolras is doing everything he can but I do understand how everything can feel a little bit lacking with Courfeyrac being gone and all. I just,” Joly paused, his eyes narrowing before meeting Grantaire’s again, “let’s just say I’m a little bit more worried about Enjolras than Jehan right now. Jehan will be fine when Courf returns and every mated pair goes through separation anxiety at some point in their time together, but I’m loathe to say I don’t know many cases of Alphas coping well when they are unable to properly soothe an Omega. It’s an integral part of their biology and I warned Enjolras before he agreed to all of this that his Alpha may be a little out of whack during Jehan’s stay and even after Courfeyrac gets back.”

 

“And let me guess. The fucking knothead paid you no mind, huh?”

 

Jehan smiled a little, “How’d you guess it?”

 

“Apollo may be trying to change the world, but even he can’t change his biology and his own instincts.” Grantaire took a sip of his water before letting his eyes trail over to Enjolras across the room, “What a prideful fuck.”

 

Joly laughed, but it sounded forceful even to Grantaire’s ears, “Alas, I am known for my paranoia over certain things. Everything will be fine.”

 

Grantaire looked at Joly for a few moments before responding, “Of course, Joly. Don’t worry your beautiful little head, alright?”

 

Joly nodded, a hint of uncertainty still in his gaze before saying, “Yeah. And, about that drink…”

 

Grantaire grinned and the conversation was quickly forgotten. Enjolras and Joly left not thirty minutes later, but Grantaire was too busy trying to lock Feuilly in a head lock after ‘accidentally’ spilling his drink on his head to notice.

  
  


*

 

“Marius!”

 

Even Bahorel’s booming voice couldn’t reach the sweater clad Alpha who was pacing around the front door, his eyes darting everywhere except for their specific table. Grantaire heard Bossuet suppressing a chuckle from next to him as Bahorel grew increasingly annoyed. Grantaire watched the whole interaction with amusement, twirling the contents on his drink around absently.

 

_ “Jesus Christ,”  _ Bahorel muttered under his breath before turning completely around in his seat and waving his hand in the air, “Marius! Over here, you lughead!”

 

Still, despite Bahorel catching most of the other patrons around their table’s attention, Marius still looked like a lost child trying to find his way to his classroom on the first day of school. It was pitiful, but also absolutely entertaining in every way possible. 

 

Grantaire had met a hefty sum of Alphas in his life--too many knotheads for his liking--but Marius was a completely different species as far as he was concerned. Never before had he encountered someone so… so  _ not  _ an Alpha. Marius fit virtually none of the Alpha stereotypes, which could be a positive thing but also left people horribly confused when they found out about his presentation. Marius was tall, sure, but that’s pretty much where the list of Alpha characteristics ended. For one, despite his stature Marius was a stringbean and Grantaire would bet good money that on any day he himself weighed more than the guy. Marius was quiet, pensive, and always had a look of slight nervousness or uncertainty in his gaze that Grantaire and the other Amis (most of the Amis) had grown quite fond of. It was cute and so very  _ Marius  _ that no one could stay mad at the guy for long for acting like a lost little puppy half the time. 

 

Bahorel turned around in his seat, huffing loudly, “Could someone go get him before he ends up hurting himself?”

 

“He’s standing by the front door, Horel.” Feuilly pointed out.

 

“He’ll find a way.”

 

Eponine was just heaving herself out of her seat when a familiar squeal sounded throughout the quite restaurant. Grantaire looked back to find Marius cowering underneath Enjolras’ hand on his shoulder. The door was swinging back and forth and Enjolras’ nose was a faint red from the cold outside, but that didn’t help the annoyed face he was pulling look any less threatening.

 

“Marius,” Enjolras said, voice far too calm, like it was about to snap any second, “I could hear Bahorel’s voice from a block away.”

 

“Huh?” Marius squeaked before his eyes finally landed on the small group of Amis huddled about a set of tables that had been clumsily pushed together. His cheeks went a bright crimson red,  _ “Oh.  _ Sorry Enjolras.”

 

Enjolras sighed heavily before making his way over to the table, unraveling his thick scarf as he did so. He plopped down in a seat next to Combeferre who didn’t even look up from the book he was immersed in as he pushed a cup of coffee Enjolras’ way. 

 

Marius joined the table seconds later, taking a seat next to Grantaire and also uncoincidentally the seat farthest away from Enjolras. Grantaire clapped him on the back, “Glad you were able to pull yourself into the real world and find us.”

 

Marius stuttered out a laugh, “Uh, uh-huh. Have you all ordered yet?”

 

“Don’t know where Musichetta is to take our order.” Bahorel said.

 

“She doesn’t work here, dumbass.” Feuilly said, rolling his eyes.

 

Bahorel squinted, “Huh. It seems any other halfway decent restaurant has scooped her up. I forget.”

 

As if on cue, Musichetta and Joly appeared in the doorway of the place and had no trouble picking out their boisterous group of friends. Musichetta appeared at Bossuet’s side, her hand absently finding his neck and squeezing down in a comforting gesture that made the Beta beam up at her. 

 

“And the trio is complete again.” Eponine drawled, her smile small but genuine.

 

“How’re you, Ep?” Musichetta asked as she sat down as Joly quickly found a seat next to Bossuet to occupy. 

 

“Eh, same old, same old.”

 

“Still dealing with those two demon children, I see.” Muschetta pointed out an assortment of colors that looked vaguely like the work of various markers trailing down her left arm all the way to her wrist. 

 

Eponine looked at the colors with an eye roll, “Half caused by the demons, half by this asshole who decided it was a good idea to join them in their attack.”

 

Grantaire beamed Eponine’s way before she ended up smacking the back of his head. 

 

“No Cosette?” Joly asked Marius from across the table, his mittens clattering against his silverware as he hastily removed them.

 

Marius frowned and if Grantaire didn’t know any better he would have thought someone had just told the guy that his mother died. “Unfortunately, no. Her Father is in town and wanted to take her out this morning.”

 

“You weren’t invited?” Grantaire asked.

 

“I--” Marius frowned, “Cosette’s Father is very strict… traditional. He’s, uh,”

 

“Intimidating?” Grantaire asked with a smile.

 

Marius’ blush said everything and Bahorel snorted out a laugh, “Who doesn’t intimidate you, Pontmercy? Joly, perhaps?”

 

Joly made a mocking scary face that made Musichetta chuckle next to him and give him a loving ruffle on top of his head. Joly dropped the act quickly and said, “I’m sure Jehan may be the only other person less intimidating.”

 

“Where is Provaire?” Feuilly asked before looking down the table. “Enjolras?”

 

“Resting.” Enjolras stated, his tone oddly falling flat. “Not feeling well.”

 

“Ah, well, send my apologies.” Feuilly said, grimacing before the conversation somehow got turned around to the hideous sweater Marius was currently wearing. Grantaire was vaguely involved in the discussion but was distracted by a pair of eyes on him from across the table. He jerked in his seat and was met with a beautiful look of disdain.

 

He couldn’t even pretend not to be a little happy. Usually the fight for Enjolras’ attention was painful and enduring, but now the guy seemed to be annoyed at Grantaire for doing virtually nothing. He must be moving up in the world.

 

“See something worth making it onto your big list of things that must be fixed, Apollo?” Grantaire said, a smirk curling at his lips.

 

Enjolras didn’t even deem him with an answer before asking, “What’re drinking, Grantaire.”

 

The question fell flat and came out as more of a demand than a question. Grantaire’s jaw tensed at the sudden harshness, but he was quick to resume his care-free, mocking nature. He had had a lot of experience perfecting it over the years.

 

“Some of this establishment's finest coffee, I presume. Now, I can’t guarantee if it’s the fancy fair-trade junk you’re so fond of--”

 

“It reeks of liquor.” Enjolras stated, his voice loud enough to extinguish any other conversations around the table. 

 

Grantaire swallowed, his brow furrowing in confusion, “Your biology doesn’t fail you, Enjolras. What a  _ great sniffer  _ you’ve been gifted.”

 

“Don’t bring biology into this.” Enjolras snapped, his eyes boring into Grantaire’s in a way that was too much and not enough all in one. “You’re avoiding the problem.”

 

“What am I avoiding? You know the saying,” Grantaire said, taking a long sip of his spiked coffee. “It’s never too early for a drink.”

 

“You just made that up.”

 

“Source.”

 

“What?”

 

“I want a source. You do back up your facts with a  _ source  _ I’m guessing. Then again, I’m sure anything that comes to that great, idealistic mind of yours is good enough.” 

 

The air around the table had changed. Everyone was zeroed in on the conversation at hand but Grantaire felt almost numb to the rest of them, too busy living in the moment and thriving off of it. The look in Enjolras’ eyes, pure distaste and annoyance, was something that was Grantaire’s and his alone. Nothing else seemed to really matter in that moment and Grantaire found himself becoming more and more addicted to petty arguments like these despite how often they seemed to occur.

 

“You’re being purposely mocking and antagonizing right now, Grantaire when I’m simply pointing out a disgusting habit that is rude to not only the establishment, but the rest of the table as a whole. Throw it out.”

 

Grantaire scoffed at that, “Uh huh, okay, and  _ I’m  _ simply saying that you seem to be the only one getting riled up right now and is truly bothered by it. Should we take a vote? That seems very righteous and democratic, right?”

 

Bahorel took the beat of silent to clear his throat and speak loudly, clearly trying to diffuse the situation, “Yeah, yeah, we’ll take a damn vote and then get back to ordering--”

 

_ “Grantaire,”  _ Enjolras nearly growled, cutting Bahorel off, “don’t make me seem like--”

 

“What? Like a pushy Alpha assole? You want to take this outside, find an alley, and beat some sense into me now?” Grantaire countered back, his tone sarcastic but that unsurprisingly flew over Enjolras’ head.

 

Enjolras closed his eyes momentarily, as if mustering the strength to answer before returning Grantaire’s gaze, “You  _ know  _ that isn’t what I’m saying.”

 

“Then let me be and more importantly let me take my coffee how I want.” Grantaire said, picking up his mug and hitting it against Marius’ who didn’t even raise it off the table.

 

“You’re impossible.” Enjolras gritted out, his mouth twisting downwards as his fists gripped the table cloth tightly. “Get rid of it now. The smell is disgusting.”

 

Grantaire smiled crookedly at him, ignoring the incessant elbow Eponine was digging into his side. “Oh yes,  _ I’m  _ the impossible Omega who won’t do as he’s told--”

 

_ “Get rid of it.” _

 

Everything seemed to freeze in that moment before reality could settle in. Sure, Grantaire could still hear the hustling and bustling of the restaurant around them, but it seemed far away and fuzzy. His mind seemed to have spun out of control and was struggling to come back to his body and make sense of everything. He had heard an Alpha use their voice before, of course. Dozens of times really, but mostly they were made in bed or by some asshat during his years in college when dumbasses were still too entitled and didn’t know what the real world was like. An Alpha using their voice was frowned upon and was pretty much the equivalent to pining someone down in the middle of the street. People were mortified by it. People got in serious trouble for it in certain situations, especially when it came to Omegas.

 

And yet there they were, all stunned silent at the table and reeling. Grantaire had never heard Enjolras’ Alphas voice and judging by the looks of pure shock around him, he didn’t think he was alone in that.

 

Enjolras, for his part, looked unphased, his eyes still trained on Grantaire who couldn’t bring himself to look away despite every muscle in his body telling him to. Grantaire had felt many things around Enjolras--many unhealthy and sad things--but submitting to him against his will had surpirisingly never been one of them. The two didn’t get along and it wasn’t uncommon for their arguments to get out of hand every once in a while, but Grantaire had never in a million years feared Enjolras. Had never felt the need to submit and bare his throat to the guy in fear of getting hurt. 

 

The feeling left Grantaire terrifyingly confused and lost. He felt like Marius probably did whenever he entered a room anywhere on his own. Completely alone and completely detached from the world in front of him.

 

Seconds ticked by--maybe minutes, who knew at that point?--before Enjolras was the one to end the stiffening silence by abruptly standing up from his chair. It screeched against the floor loudly causing Marius to nearly jump out of his seat next to him. Enjolras’s clenched his fists once more against the the table cloth before tearing his gaze away from Grantaire and muttering angrily down at the table, “I need some air.”

 

Grantaire barely registered his retreating form that abruptly left the building. Even more surprisingly, Marius out of all people was the one to break the silence once he was gone, “Um. What was that?”

 

No one answered until Combeferre finally sighed heavily, his book falling down onto the table as he scrubbed a hand down his face, “I don’t know. An… a reaction due to copious amounts of--of  _ stress _ .”

 

Grantaire let out the quite, most pitiful snort. Well, that was a hell of an understatement. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire has a less than fun chat and Jehan is happy/grouchy playing Go Fish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait! I was on vacation in a cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere lol. It's a short one, but here we go!

It didn’t happen often, hell, Grantaire could think of probably just over a handful of cases where the agency had to get involved in any patient/client relationship incident that happened during the course of one’s rut, but alas, it did happen. Safety measures for Omegas had to be in place and the agency was no different. They couldn’t just cut Omegas off from the rest of the world, especially when they were with a vulnerable Alpha in rut and Grantaire had been briefed plenty of times on ways to reach the agency if anything went wrong during the time he spent helping an Alpha through their rut. He never called. He didn’t need someone he didn’t even know holding his hand through the job. He never had a reason to and he was fine with all of his partners, rough or not, it was just biology. That didn’t change the fact that helping an Alpha could potentially be a real risk and bad things did happen to some Omegas that found themselves in a less that satisfactory setting. Just not to Grantaire. Until now that is.

 

Well, there’s a first to everything, he supposed.

 

Grantaire was fiddling with the bandage around his hand, refusing to meet the Alpha’s eyes before him, “Can I  _ please  _ go home now, Fantine. I’ve been here for fucking hours it seems.”

 

Fantine sat stoically on the other side of the table. He had been moved to the small, isolated room after he had been allowed to use their facilities to clean himself up, get some food in his stomach, and have his wounds checked out. Fantine was the head bitch of the agency that Grantaire had only spoken to a handful of times, mostly when he was going through extensive interviews to make sure he was capable of being part of their agencies in the very beginning. He had never been intimidated by Fantine, she was nice and honest and didn’t come off as a headstrong Alpha at all, but now, under the circumstances he found himself entangled in, her gaze felt heavier on him and it made him squirm. There was an anger behind her eyes that Grantaire had never seen before, like any moment she was going to break out of her composed demeanor and go all Alpha on the whole facility. Still, despite that, Grantaire wasn’t dumb enough not to know tgat the anger wasn’t at all directed at him. Hell no, he was only getting pity and sadness directed at him and for some reason that was almost worse. 

 

“Grantaire,” Fantine said, her voice calmly measured, “do you know why I created this agency?”

 

Grantaire shrugged, “Gotta give Alphas something to stick their knot in, huh?”

 

_ “No,”  _ Fantine said firmly, but not harshly, as she lent forwards a bit, “this place was made to benefit Alphas and Omegas alike.” She ignored the snort that escaped between Grantaire’s lips and continued, “Omegas get a pay that they aren’t awarded in our society and we give Alphas who have nowhere else to go for their ruts another option and keep them away from unwilling Omegas who wouldn’t be able to defend themselves if an Alpha in their cycle wasn’t able to control themselves.”

 

Grantaire considered this for a moment, “Mmhmm, Omegas can finally get some good, hard cash for whoring themselves out.” He knew he was being rude and on any other day he’d at least have the decency to keep his big mouth shut about how he had always felt about the agency, especially in front of the boss lady herself. But he was tired and sore and just wanted to go home, fall into his bed, and wake up the next morning and pretend that this was all a dream.

 

“Don’t make it sound so scandalous, Grantaire. You and I both know there are agencies for Omegas who can’t find someone to assist them with their heat as well.”

 

“Yes, and those Alphas get more pay than we do.”

 

“And we are  _ fighting  _ that here.” Fantine said before sighing and sitting back in her seat. “We aren’t here to discuss this. We’re here to talk about  _ you.” _

 

“And I do believe I remember telling the five other psychiatrists or workers or whatever people you got bombarding me around here that  _ I’m fine.  _ I don’t want to talk.” Grantaire said with a huff before running his hand--his good hand--threw his still damp hair. He needed another shower. Sure, the facilities here were literally created and stocked with expensive ass scent neutralizers to wash away any lingering scents and fluids on his body, but something about showering in his own shower in his own home seemed so appealing  in that moment.

 

“Talking helps.” Fantine persisted. “And, we need a report before we let you go.”

 

Grantaire groaned, “No, you fucking don’t. I’m not pressing charges so I don’t need to give a statement.”

 

“Grantaire, you were attacked--”

 

“That’s a strong word, Fantine. You know how Alphas get in their ruts I--I overreacted.”

 

Fantine gave him a hard look, “You’ve never ‘over reacted’ in the past, Grantaire. You’ve never, not once in your time here, contacted us in the middle of assisting somehow. This was different. And it’s okay that it was different. This wasn’t your fault.”

 

Grantaire rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth, but eventually let go of the tension when the bruise forming around his eye began to pulse again. Sensing his discomfort, Fantine crossed over to the speaker next to the door, requesting an ice pack to be sent to the room before returning to her seat.

 

“I don’t need any fucking therapy, Fantine.” Grantaire said eventually. “I wasn’t in the right headspace. Alright? Is that what you want me to say? Omegas are affected by Alphas in ruts too, you know.”

 

Fantine jaw tightened before saying, “And I’m telling you that I don’t really give a fuck if you were in la la land. No Alpha, no matter who the fuck they are, gets to put their hands on the Omegas that work here with ill intent during their ruts--or any other time for that matter. Whether you give a statement or not that asshole is going to be locked away and not allowed within one hundred miles of here or you.”

 

Grantaire lulled his head back and closed his eyes. He wasn’t getting out of this. Sure, Fantine wasn’t a dick enough to Alpha command him into doing anything or even wave some fancy papers he had signed at the beginning of all this probably stating somewhere that he had to. There was just something deep inside Grantaire that was scratching at him telling him that he had already pussied out of something earlier that day, had already been a weak and scared omega earlier that day, and what was doing one other stupid thing that an Alpha was telling him to do gonna hurt? He already felt like he had lost a part of himself, a part of him that took him so long to realize that he had and to rely on it, and that was the fact that he wasn’t a weak-willed Omega that could be pushed around. 

 

Sure, maybe tomorrow he’d have that sense of himself back, who knew? But right now all he wanted to do was curl in on himself and be alone and if doing that cost him another chunk of himself, so be it.

 

“Fine.” Grantaire muttered, bring his head back up and facing Fantine dead on. “I’ll talk but we do it on my terms.”

 

Fantine just nodded.

 

“I’m not pressing charges.”

 

“Grantaire--”

 

“I’m  _ not.  _ I’m already giving you your fucking statement I just--” Grantaire broke off, his voice cracking in a way he hated. A way that he was familiar with but only when he was alone. He wouldn’t cry in front of Fantine, he fucking wouldn’t. He knew he could probably make it past all this bullshit but not that. He swallowed, hard, “I just wanna go home.”

 

His voice was quiet and Fantine didn’t argue with him. She struggled to keep a professional face on though which pissed Grantaire off, but if someone was being as pathetic as he was he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold in any sympathetic looks either. 

 

She nodded once more after a beat of silence, “Fine. No charges.”

 

Grantaire let out a deep sigh that he didn’t know he’d been holding. His chest felt too hollow to be holding in so much.

 

His statement took less than ten minutes before Fantine agreed to let him go home, but not before telling him that he needed a break, at least three months if not more, and that it was nonnegotiable. Grantaire didn’t even have the energy to argue and left the agency with wet eyes and a longing for the bruises and bitemarks he usually was left with after a heat. He revelled at the thought of complaining about them so much in the past. At least those marks went away faster than gashes and stitches would.

 

***

 

“That’s unfair.”

 

“How? I got four more matches than you. That’s a win in my book, not to mention the  _ actual rules. _ ”

 

Jehan huffed, throwing the rest of his cards on the ground, “You cheater, cheated,  _ cheater!” _

 

Enjolras sighed heavily from across the room at Jehan’s words. Imagining him and Courfeyrac as parents in just a couple short months was absolutely crazy sometimes, not just because they had both been his dear friends for so long, but also because Jehan still acted like a child far too often at times such as this. It was endearing, but also slightly troubling.

 

“How do you cheat in  _ Go Fish?”  _ Feuilly asked, exasperated and Bahorel began to laugh behind them. Both Feuilly and Jehan were quick to flip him off.

 

“I’m pregnant and you are using my vulnerability and trust to lie under oath.” Jehan said.

 

“Oh, uh-huh. I think being pregnant makes you anything but more agreeable, Jehan.” Feuilly answered, mixing up the pile of Go Fish cards in between them, obviously already preparing himself for the inevitable rematch. 

 

“Please, you said ‘Go Fish’ at least a dozen more times than I did.”

 

“You’re bad at guessing.” Feuilly said, shuffling the cards exporting in between his fingers. “And I’m good at it.”

 

“And you’re an ass.” 

 

Feuilly smiled, the tension already dying down between the two of them as Feuilly passed cards between them, “Beat me at this round and I’ll forfeit my win from the last two games…” Jehan didn’t look impressed, “... and I’ll fucking go pick you up some ice cream, dick.”

 

Jehan grinned, “Deal.”

 

“Doesn’t Enjolras already have the fridge stacked full for you?” Bahorel said, tumbling down next to Feuilly and bumping his shoulder, “Deal me in, will ya?”

 

“Only cause you asked so nicely.” Feuilly said with an eye roll. 

 

Bahorel just grinned before looking at Jehan, “Summon your personal butler--whoops, sorry,  _ slave-- _ in here this instant with snacks and goodies.”

 

Feuilly snickered, his eyes crinkling and distorting the freckles scattered around them, but Jehan didn’t even blink, too busy sorting through his cards with an intensity that should never be allowed for a game of Go Fish, “Snacks later, game now.”

 

From his spot at the tiny dining room table on the other side of the room Enjolras peeked out from being his newspaper, a look of annoyance flashing across his features, “I can hear you, ya know.”

 

“We were planning on that, Enjolras.” Bahorel shouted despite the fact that Enjolras could (unfortunately) hear every damn word they had been saying clearly for the past thirty five minutes. 

 

“Get your own snacks.” Enjolras huffed, more to himself than anyone, before returning to his paper, flicking the loose papers back up and over his face. Combeferre peered up from his textbook next to him before pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

 

Enjolras barely registered hearing Bahorel saying something about himself being too busy reading about avid current affairs to get them snacks when Combeferre cleared his throat next to him. 

Enjolras didn’t look up, “Hmm?”

 

“Enjolras.”

 

Enjolras ran his tongue over his bottom lip and tilted his head his friend’s way, still not taking his eyes off the paper, “What.”

 

“Look at me.”

 

Enjolras sighed, louder than he had intended, before pushing down the newspaper and giving Combeferre a steely look, “What.”

 

Combeferre wasn’t amused, his lips turned downwards, “You’ve been glaring at that newspaper for the good part of at least half an hour without flipping the page. I read the thing this morning. I’ve known you enough to guess that reading about the effects of drinking seltzer water wouldn’t interest you for nearly this long.”

 

“What are you trying to say Combeferre?” Enjolras asked, struggling to keep his eyes focused on him.

 

Combeferre frowned, “When is the last time you’ve slept?”

 

“I sleep.”

 

“I’m sure.” Combeferre grunted, pushing his book away and resting his hands down on the edge of the table. “The bags under your eyes tell another story.”

 

“I’m not your patient.” Enjolras argued, his voice already sounding a little on edge. Comferre wasn’t deterred.

 

“Enjolras, you’ve been acting strangely lately. And don’t even try to argue with me on that.”

 

Well, obviously Combeferre didn’t know Enjolras as well as he was claiming. Enjolras would  _ always  _ argue anything, no matter what it was. “I’m stressed. My workload is--”

 

“Nothing you haven’t been able to handle before.” Combeferre interjected, earning him a glare. “IS this about the meeting?”

 

“The meeting went by fine last week.”

 

“You seemed distracted.” Combeferre pushed.

 

“I was not. Everything was in order. Perfectly normal.” His voice wavered, but still held a firmness to it the Enjolras wouldn’t allow to disappear.

 

“Grantaire wasn’t there.”

 

And that stopped their tirade of back and forth rather quickly. Enjolras grit his teeth and looked back down at his paper, “He comes and goes whenever he likes. I’m not his keeper. We don’t have a sign in sheet. Those who are actually dedicated to the problems we discuss come every week without a hitch--”

 

“You’ve never cared whether he was there or not before.” Combeferre said, twirling around the pen in his hand like he was trying to sound casual, like he was simply telling Enjolras about any other speculation he might come across. 

 

Enjolras clenched his fists, the joyous laughter on the other side of the room the only thing keeping him in check. Jehan had barely moved out of bed in two days. He was grateful that at least some of the presence of the other Amis had been enough to coax him out of bed. He didn’t want to ruin that. He spoke softly, “Enough games, Combeferre. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me and  _ spit it out.” _

 

Combeferre blinked, obviously not used to the harshness in Enjolras’ tone being targeted towards him as he said, “You were out of line a week and a half ago. I wasn’t going to say anything. I trusted you to know yourself enough to realize what you should probably do, but apparently I was wrong.”

 

“And what do I have to do Combeferre? If I needed a therapist I would pay you for your services, how about that? I don’t need you telling me what is going on in my life, treating me like a petulant child.” Combeferre had always been someone Enjolras could confide in. They worked well together and agreed on many subjects. Combeferre was level headed and understanding enough to deal with some of Enjolras’ lesser linked traits, and yes, maybe some of that was due to his profession and Enjolras was always thankful for that… except for times like these.

 

Combeferre sighed, “That isn’t what I’m doing. I’m trying to help.”

 

“Save it.”

 

Combeferre was silent for a couple moments, his eyes trained hard on Enjolras before saying, “I’ve never heard you use your voice on someone,” he paused, like he was contemplating something, “not on a… friend.” 

 

The word  _ Omega  _ went unsaid, but Enjolras heard it nevertheless. None of their group liked to think that way in terms of separating each other by their biology. They were more progressive than that. But alas, there were some things ingrained into society’s standards that even they found hard to ignore. Don’t use your voice on an Omega. It was something Enjolras agreed with full heartedly and had advocated for. Omegas should be treated just as equally as any other gender in society and using one’s voice on an Omega to control them was… belittling. It made Omegas a slave to their own biology and made Enjolras sick to his stomach. It was something Enjolras had never done, even after that Amis meeting he still felt that way. But now, with Combeferre being the first to blatantly spell it out for it he could feel a sort of knot growing in his stomach. Something he couldn’t keep pushing down and ignoring with hurtful words and aggression. 

 

When Enjolras remained silent, Combeferre continued, “I’m not telling you what to do, Enjolras. Do whatever you want and I won’t bring it up again. I urge you to think about the ramifications of your actions and… just talk. To him. It couldn’t hurt. I see the guilt eating you away.”

 

“I’m fine.” Enjolras urged, running a hand down his face. “Talking won’t do any good. He never listens.”

 

“He listens more than you know. You don’t give Grantaire enough credit.”

 

“When has he ever given me any?” Enjolras asked, but the question feel flat. He sighed.

 

“He provoked me.” Enjolras said, but even his argument sounded weak to his own ears. “He’s…” his words died out, something that never really happened to him and spoke miles on how tired he was. 

 

“Talk to him.” Combeferre offered again, picking his book back up. “If you won’t do it for your own health do it for his sake. You owe him that much.”

 

Combeferre didn’t continue reading his book until Enjolras gave a weak nod.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras' 'apology' goes to shit.

He was alone in his house which was… not nice. Sure, he complained about Eponine slugging around his place whenever she felt the need and taking his food in the process, but that was more playful banter than anything. Now she had a reason not to be there and the reason was stupid and made Grantaire want to throw a punch at something. Him and Eponine didn’t fight a lot but when they did it wasn’t pretty. Both of them could hold a grudge like no other and when Grantaire showed up with a black eye and bruised ribs after nearly a week of no communication, well, she obviously didn’t take to it to kindly, especially when she forced nearly the whole story out of him on the spot.

 

“You  _ aren’t pressing charges?” _

 

Grantaire flinched at the Alpha timbre in her voice, but was determined not to let it phase him. “No.”

 

“Why,” Eponine said, grabbing him by the shoulders. Her intent was clear, but even her hold was gentle, like she thought he might break at any moment. The thought made Grantaire sick, “the fuck  _ not?” _

 

“Because…” And Grantaire trailed off, not really having a real answer. He didn’t want to. That was it.

 

That was it… and Eponine was  _ pissed.  _ Even him telling her that he had been laid off from the agency didn’t seem to bring down the fire of anger burning inside of her. She hadn’t been around for a whole two days and Grantaire had barely left the house. He ignored Bahorel and Feuilly’s invites to hang out, he didn’t attend the weekly Amis meeting, and he could feel himself wilting away at it all. Grantaire wasn’t necessarily a social butterfly by any means, but he certainly didn’t do well in isolation and that was what this felt like. Complete isolation. All it would take was one look in the mirror at his battered face and it was almost foolish to think about going anywhere else but to his own bed to wait this whole mess out.

 

The bruises would fade and his body would heal. That was all Grantaire really needed gone was the physical evidence. The rest he could deal with on his own. Or at least that is what he kept telling himself. 

 

It was early in the morning and Grantaire really couldn’t say why the fuck he was up. Hunger, maybe. He was over by the stove cooking up some eggs he had found near the back of the fridge and was just starting to think that they might be spoiled when he heard the knock on his door. He put the spatula down and trudged towards the front door, annoyed.

 

He had ordered groceries online just around an hour ago and had specifically requested that whoever brought it to him just leave it outside and message him through the app when they were gone. Obviously those instructions were too difficult and he vowed never to do this shit again. He had never done it before. It seemed like such an uppity, rich person thing to do but even showing himself in the super market seemed too much and he was running low on food. 

 

He braced himself when he opened the door but nothing could have even come close to prepare him to the person standing before him. He didn’t even try to hide his surprise, couldn’t really, “Apollo? The fuck are you--”

 

_ “Jesus Christ,”  _ Enjolras cut him off with just a hiss. He looked so polished, he always fucking did, way to ready and perfect for this world. His hair was parted to the side and ran in perfect curls that nearly met his shoulders. He had a loose red sweater on and black jeans that were just too tight… or maybe Grantaire was looking at them too much. His eyes were wide and blue and seemed to take in his entire appearance in a matter of seconds, not even bothering to hide the absolute shock that was prominent in almost every muscle of his suddenly tense body. The most ridiculous part of the whole ensemble was the thick, striped scarf wrapped around his neck that was undoubtedly made by Jehan and on any other day Grantaire wouldn’t hesitate to made a snarky comment about it. 

 

But this wasn’t any other day. Any other day Grantaire would relish in Enjolras’ presence, but not today. Today he wanted Enjolras as far away as physically possible and  _ not fucking here. _

 

Enjolras made a move like he was going to reach out to Grantaire, but thought better of it at the last moment, his eyes wide, “What the fuck happened?” His voice sounded scandalized, like he had just read the most heinous head line the _ New York Times  _ had to offer.

 

Grantaire was at a loss for words. His mouth moved but no words came out for what seemed like forever until he finally gathered himself, his fingers clutching the door handle firmly, “Just-- _ fuck-- _ not now, boss. Not-- _ how the fuck do you even know where I live?” _

 

“Jehan.” Enjolras supplied before shaking his head. “Grantaire, you-- _ who did this?” _

 

His eyes narrowed and his face became dark with anger and Grantaire, despite the circumstances, was only a man. This was Enjolras at his best. No longer a man but a beacon of justice ready to solve the problem before him at any costs. And that was all Grantaire was to him now. A cause to be fixed. To see it so close and directed at  _ him  _ made Grantaire weak at the knees and he couldn’t tell if it was in a good or bad way.

 

“Nothing I--get out.  _ Leave, fuck.  _ What are you even--” He cut himself off, unable to find any other words to articulate, and began closing the door. 

 

He should’ve known it wouldn’t work, but even then the hand that slammed back against the door and halted him from closing it was still a shock. They were suddenly caught in a stand still, their eyes locked and neither one of them wanting to give in to the other. Grantaire’s eyes narrowed, “ _ Get the fuck out, Apollo.” _

 

“No.” Enjolras said immediately and Grantaire nearly rolled his eyes.

 

“This is my goddam house! What? You want me to call the cops or some shit? I don’t think Ferre would be too happy about busting your ass out this early in the morning.”

 

It was a bluff and Enjolras knew it, his hand never wavering on the door. He looked like he was seconds away from pushing himself in and honestly? He totally could if he wanted to. Grantaire might not be a weak Omega by society standards, but an Alphas’ strength trumped an Omega’s at least ninety nine percent of the time. Still, despite the hard look in his eyes, Enjolras seemed to be using every fibre of his being to stop from doing just that.

 

That didn’t stop Grantaire from being pissed at him though. “The fuck do you want? A cup of morning coffee perhaps?” He asked incredulously. “Whoops. Sorry, I haven’t put on a pot of coffee yet, come back later, huh?”

 

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said, his voice softer than he’d expect it to be. “You’re--you can’t expect me to leave. I can’t. You’re hurt.  _ Someone fucking--” _

 

“I’ll live, Enjy. Don’t let me set you back from saving the world.”

 

“I just--” Enjolras swallowed, his eyes darting a bit before meeting Grantaire’s once again. “I came to talk--”

 

“Bad time.” Grantaire ground out, pushing on the door but to no avail. Enjolras might as well have been a concrete wall.

 

“Just let me--”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m not here to--”

 

“I could give a fuck--”

 

“-- to interrogate you.” Enjolras finished. “I came to apologize, that’s it. Can I do that please without you trying to force me out of your house like I’m some stranger?”

 

“Nope.” Grantaire said, pushing on the door with his entire weight, taking Enjolras by surprise. It was almost enough, but not quite, Enjolras’ quickly fixed his stance to keep the door open just enough. He didn’t push any farther though, just enough so that Grantaire could see him through the crack in his door.

 

_ “Jesus,  _ Grantaire! Let me in. We have to talk.”

 

Grantaire almost laughed at the craziness of the whole situation. None of it was funny, but rather unbelievable. “Well, that ain’t gonna happen. Not fucking now. What do you not get about that? What? You wanna try and use your voice on me again?  _ Huh?  _ See if that works this time?”

 

Grantaire only caught a glimpse of it, but the hurt and almost horror on Enjolras’ face would forever be ingrained into his mind as the door finally gave and slammed shut. Grantaire was frozen for all of two seconds before he quickly fastened the lock and took giant steps away from the door. 

 

Enjolras was still there. Of course he was. Fuck, Grantaire could smell the dude already inside his house even without him stepping inside. 

 

The knocking started almost immediately. “ _ Grantaire.” _

 

“Not home, sorry.” Grantaire shouted, barely keeping the waver out of his voice as he raked his hands through his hand. “Try again some other time.”

 

“I’m not leaving.”

 

Grantaire did laugh this time as he grabbed the remote to his TV and turned whatever bad cooking show that was playing on at full volume. “Have fun sitting in the hallway then, buddy!”

 

And boy did Enjolras not fucking joke around. He didn’t leave. Not till the episode was completely over and Grantaire was almost halfway through the next. The knocking was starting to make Grantaire’s head hurt and he stopped trying to make sense of what Enjolras was saying nearly a half hour ago. 

 

Isolation suddenly didn’t seem like such a repulsive idea anymore.Not when some crazy ass blonde Alpha was trying to knock his door down with nothing but his fists.

 

It was nearing an hour when Grantaire finally fucking caved. He wasn’t necessarily known for his ability to be patient and wait something out and by the sound of it Enjolras didn’t seem to be giving up anytime soon. With an annoyed huff and another run through his mangled mess of hair, Grantaire ripped the door open.

 

Enjolras looked wrecked, a stark difference from the pristine look he had approached Grantaire’s door with. At some point he had ditched the scarf and his hair was strewn out of place. It was disheveled look that Grantaire had never seen before and at any other time may have appreciated.

 

“You get thirty fucking seconds, you pyscho before I seriously loose my shit.” Grantaire ground out, his entire body stiff and pent up with anger.

 

“Who did this?” Enjolras immediately asked and before Grantaire could say anything he continued, “And don’t give me some bullshit story, Grantaire. I know the gym you go to and no one inflicts that much damage in a fake fight.”

 

Grantaire shook his head, “You said you wanted to apologize. That is what we are discussing now. I don’t fucking believe it, not one bit, but I’ll let you know if I get a even the slightest tingle of joy hearing you rush through some made up, thrown together apology.”

 

“Does Eponine know who did this?” And Grantaire could’ve punched him,  _ he really fucking could’ve.  _ “If you are in trouble, Grantaire, or if someone is harassing you--”

 

“Oh, like you’re doing right now?” Grantaire asked, throwing his hands our to the side. “What should I do, boss? Call for reinforcements? Fucking send a letter to my senator seeking justice?”

 

“You’re being confrontational when I’m just trying to help.”

 

“I don’t need your help.” Grantaire growled. “I don’t need anyone’s  _ help. Fuck.  _ Why don’t people see that? You take a punch or a kick in life,”  _ Or you take being trapped in a rut with a crazy Alpha that thinks physical violence and sex go hand in hand. It’s just the cards that life has dealt you. _ “I’m sure you know this better than anyone. Hell, you’ve been to jail more times than I have for fighting!” 

 

“We aren’t talking about me!” Enjolras nearly shouted and Grantaire was truly shocked none of his neighbors had alerted the authorities, or even bothered to come out of their apartments to tell them to shut the fuck up themsleves. Hell, Grantaire would’ve done so at least five minutes into this shit show.

 

“And we aren’t talking about me either, and that’s  _ it.”  _ Grantaire said. “I’m giving you a chance here, Apollo. Say what you gotta say or fucking leave. This is the only chance I’m giving you.”

 

There must’ve been something about Grantaire’s tone that made him pause. Made him think he was dead serious as he carefully chose his words. He swallowed, “I used my voice on you.”

 

“Damn straight, you prick.”

 

“That was wrong.” Enjolras said, sounding out of breath. Sounding like he really did just beat on Grantaire’s door for forty five minutes straight. “I was wrong.”

 

“Uh-huh. All very true. See? I knew you had some sense of sanity somewhere deep inside the blonde head of yours.”

 

“Just--stop trying to rile me up and listen!” Enjolras ground out, heaving. When he opened his eyes again, it was a look of openness and something akin to weakness. But weakness was impossible for Enjolras. “I used my voice on you and it was wrong and terrible and I shouldn’t have done it. As an Alpha I’m--I wouldn’t I--I don’t know I’m--I’m--” He paused, like he was short circuiting just trying to find the right words. He settled on something simply and rushed out and that made Grantaire want to disappear. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Great.”

 

And with that, Grantaire slammed the door. The cooking channel once again was on full blast before Grantaire could hear anything else as he quickly escaped into the shower. 

  
  


***

  
  


It took him a couple of hours before he was in a head space to call Eponine. Fuck, he didn’t know who else to call, who else could’ve told Enjolras about what was going on. No way Enjolras just stumbled here coincidentally on his own.

 

“You got some  _ nerve,  _ R.” Eponine had been grilling him for the past ten minutes over the phone and Grantaire, although he missed her truly, was starting to regret calling her. “Calling me a rat and accusing me of urning my back on you and telling everyone when  _ you  _ are the one keeping secrets.”

 

“I didn’t--it wasn’t like that, Ep. I swear to you. Nothing like, well,  _ that,  _ has ever happened when I was in the agency. Ever.  I would tell you and--and I’d fucking quit that shit if it was a regular accurance to be treated like some rutted up Alpha’s punching bag.”

 

There was a pause. “Promise.”

 

It wasn’t a question. “Promise.”

 

Eponine sighed, long and loud. She sounded tried and Grantaire could already imagine the bags under her eyes. She never did sleep good when her and her siblings stayed at their parent’s place for too long. “I didn’t tell anyone.  _ Anyone,  _ understand? Even though I fucking should. You deserve better than this, R.”

 

Grantaire swallowed heavily, “Then how the fuck did he know? He’s not just gonna drop by here, Ep. He never has before and--fuck--I didn’t think the guy even knew I lived on my own. Probably thinks I’m homeless or something.”

 

“Maybe he didn’t know.” Eponine said. “Maybe whatever bullshit apology story you were mentioning was actually the reason he came over.”

 

Grantaire snorted loudly, “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Enjolras doesn’t fucking apologize, Ep. You seem to forget he’s fucking perfect.”

 

“Maybe to you he is. I can find  _ many a flaw  _ in the piss head.”

 

Grantaire couldn’t help but laugh at that and mouthed the word ‘piss head’ before saying, “Well, whatever. It doesn’t matter now.” It did matter. Maybe not in a worldly sense, but Grantaire would undoubtedly be thinking about the encounter for longer than he’d ever admit. “He was here for whatever fucking reason and he saw my swollen eye and shit and now he’s gonna tell everyone and I need a cover story.”

 

“And you are telling me this why?”

 

“You’re a better bullshitter than me on any given day of the week.” Grantaire said while scrubbing vigorously at the pan he had neglected when Enjolras dropped by earlier. The thing was pretty much burned to fuck but that didn’t stop Grantaire from going at it with all he had. “Help me.”

 

“Jesus,” Eponine sighed, “why am I even contemplating helping you right now. Why? If I remember I’m supposed to be mad at you for not suing that sorry fuck that dared lay his hand on you. Maybe I should be helping our leader spread the word and get some you some money from this guy for what he did.”

 

“Ha. Ha.” Grantaire said dryly before finally giving up and leaving the pan to soak. “It’s because you love me remember?  _ Please.” _

 

“Alright,  _ alright,”  _ Eponine groaned and Grantaire thought he heard shuffling in the background, like Eponine was writing this shit out or something. “This is what you’re gonna do, idiot. Or, you know, you could tell our friends the truth…”

 

“Not gonna happen.”

 

“Stubborn fuck.” Eponine sounded serious but they both ended up laughing just a bit before Eponine’s mind started conjuring up bullshit for Grantaire to spew.

 

_ Enjolras didn’t know.  _ Grantaire reminded himself, bewildered by it all.  _ He didn’t know and he sought you out to… apologize? Bullshit.  _

 

It had to be. Even thinking about Enjolras stooping so low was laughable. Still, Grantaire couldn’t help but feel something about it. It was small, mostly hidden by the sheer amount of panic he felt at Enjolras seeing his face all black and blue, but it was there nonetheless.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musichetta is the bestest Alpha and Grantaire has a gym membership... but that also really isn't relavent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks!!!  
> So, long overdue   
> I know  
> And Short  
> I know  
> I suuuuckkkk  
> But!  
> Hopefully you'll like how I'm finally getting the plot moving! Yay!  
> Enjoy!

“You’ve been picking up more shifts lately.”

 

Grantaire didn’t need to look up to see who was talking to him. He just kept with his task of refilling the cup full off cherries. One toppled off of the edge and when Grantaire went to snact it up, Musichetta had already somehow popped it into her mouth with a happy grin.

 

She chewed slowly, “Strapped for cash or something?”

 

Grantaire nodded. “Yep. Something like that.”

 

Musichetta swallowed slowly before narrowing her eyes slightly at Grantaire in concern. She crossed the threshold behind the bar even though their manager would likely make a scene upon seeing her back there despite the utter lack of customers in the pub. It was late in the afternoon and the place wouldn’t pick up until later that evening which essentially meant it was him, Musichetta, and whoever did the dishes and cooking in the back till then. 

 

There was nowhere to evade Musichetta’s quizzical look and Grantaire reserved himself for the worst.

 

“You seem down, R.” She titled her head a bit when Grantaire didn’t quite meet her eyes. “You wanna talk about it?”

 

Grantaire snorted at that. While most Alphas demand, Musichetta asks like she wouldn’t have a care in the world if things didn’t go her way. Musichetta was an Alpha through and through, but she leaned towards a more motherly and caring side. A trait that wasn’t at all uncommon for Omegas but somehow fit perfectly within Musichetta. It was the reason she was able to be so open and nonjudgmental. Hell, she had two mates, one Omega and one Beta, and no one in the world could ever convince her that she was any less Alpha for that. She was her own person and gave a big middle finger to typical Alpha stereotypes. It was no wonder she had essentially joined the Amis after some of their first meetings at the Musain, one of the many places she was employed at.

 

“It’s nothing, Chetta.” Grantaire smiled at her. “Just been a little off, I guess. Tired.”

 

“Alright baby, you know I’d never push but,” She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving him more than enough time to pull away, “if you need someone you got a helluva lot of people that wouldn’t think twice about dropping everything to lend you a helping hand.”

 

He knew she was probably eluding towards money. Musichetta and Feuilly were easily the hardest working people in the Amis in a job sense and it wasn’t due to just a need to be busy. Money was always tight and Grantaire couldn’t even fathom the idea of taking a single cent from either or them.

 

Still, it was a cover he would take greatly over what was really brewing inside his mind. His bruises had faded and now that was all that was left, his thoughts.

 

“Thanks Chetta. You’re the best.”

 

She smiled, “And don’t you forget it.”

 

***

  
  


“Sorry man, I don’t play that way.”

 

Grantaire stood with his hands spread apart, both of them covered in thick pads that made his palms feel like they were being buried under hot sand, “Alright. Don’t  _ play  _ then. Start swinging.”

 

Montparnase wasn’t exactly a ‘friend.’ More like one of the many entitled Alpha pricks Grantaire had to deal with every now and again. He wasn’t openly prejudice, Grantaire wouldn’t stand for that shit if he was, but the glitzy little fucker still had the nerve at times to give him looks whenever Grantaire entered the gym that was almost always bombarded with other Alphas. It was enough to put him on Grantaire’s list of ‘Alphas He Had Absolutely No Fucking Patience For’. He wasn’t as high up as some blonde fuck was right then, but he was close. 

 

But he had been Eponine’s friend for longer than Grantaire had even known her and was a regular at the same gym Grantaire went to. Their paths crossed enough that Grantaire didn’t feel weird stepping in at the chance to stand off with someone. He usually liked to be the one throwing the punches, but maybe Montparnase would shut his glammed up face up and put on the damn boxing mitts long enough for Grantaire to get in a few good swings.

 

“Nah,” Montparnase said, wiping off some sweat on the back of his neck and giving Grantaire a cheeky grin like he was missing out on some obvious joke, “I don’t fight Omegas.”

 

His hands were up and he was talking before Grantaire could even tell him to go fuck off, “Hey, hey, don’t give me that look. Nothing against you, it’s just instinct and all.”

 

“Uh-huh, is it also instinct to act like a raging asshole in public places?”

 

Montparnase took a couple steps towards the ring before swiftly climbing in to approach Grantaire and everything about the guy made his nevres crawl. His perfectly quaffed hair and tweezed eyebrows made him look like a fucking glitzed up housewife that Grantaire could take anyday. He leaned down to Grantaire’s height and smiled, “It wouldn’t be fair. I wouldn’t wanna hurt a pretty Omega.” 

 

“Please, you’re prettier than me any day and you know it, fuck head.” Grantaire spat. “Go find your own partner then, see if I care.”

 

Grantaire stepped away and took his mitts off and gripped them tightly in his hand before scanning the crowd of people in the gym. It didn’t take him long to spot Bahorel a little ways away, beating a punching bag like it had personally wronged him.

 

“Horel!” The guy lifted up his head and stopped mid-swing, “Come spare with me, yeah?”

 

Bahorel titled his head towards the bag, “Um, kinda busy?”

 

“I think the bag will still be there when we’re done. Come on. I need to hit something that isn’t just gonna hang off the ceiling and take it.”

 

Bahorel bit his bottom lip for a moment before shrugging. He just started to make his way towards the ring when Montparnase leaned down towards him, “Do you like to challenge Alphas as a power trip thing to make yourself feel better? Or do you just get off on the fact that you know you’ll beat them because you know they’ll be too afraid to take a real swing at you?”

 

Grantaire spun around, adamant to take Montparnasse up on his offer of him liking to take swings at Alphas, when Feuilly’s voice at the edge of the ring halted him. “Give it break, Mont. I believe your workout’s done anyway. Hit the road.”

 

Montparnasse stood to his full height, “And if I recall Feuilly you just pick up people’s sweat towels and mop up the bathrooms around here. You’re not the owner.”

 

“And if  _ I  _ recall your gym membership expired two weeks ago.” Feuilly pushed off the edge of the ring and began walking back to the front desk, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t make me round up a few of these muscleheads to toss you out. I doubt they’d have a problem helping me.”

 

Montparnasse scowled before shooting Grantaire another dirty look and exiting the ring. At this point Bahorel had just clambered into the ring and clapped Grantaire on the shoulder, “Feuilly’s great. Saved your ass.”

 

“Yeah, well, my ass doesn’t need saving.” Grantaire shrugged off Bahorel’s hand before slipping the pads back over his hands. “Now come on, less talking and more punching.”

 

A frown twisted on Bahorel’s face before relenting. Bahorel was a good fighter and he really could pack a punch, but it only took a couple minutes before Bahorel was tapping out and Grantaire had barely broken a sweat.

 

“What the fuck was that, man? The bean bag wear you out or something?” Grantaire threw the pads Bahorel’s way.

 

“Fuck you.” Bahorel slipped them on and they were off again. Grantaire didn’t hold back. All the pent up energy that had been swelling inside of him the past couple of weeks seemed to spill out of each punch. As the sparring went on, punch after punch, the anger that Grantaire had been wanting to get rid of just seemed to grow and grow with every blow Bahorel took easily, not even trying to push back at all. Like he was treating him like something that was about to break. It spiked something in Grantaire that made him push the pads, nearly knocking Bahorel off his feet.

 

“The fuck--”

 

“What the fuck?” Grantaire raised his fists above his head, “Can’t even push back against me, huh? Can’t even throw a solid punch my way without flinching? Afraid your gonna hurt my feelings?”

 

“Grantaire, you know I don’t--”

 

“Save it.” Grantaire said, turning around. “You wanna treat me like some delicate fucking flower you can go back to your fucking bag.”

 

Bahorel had a pained look on his face, “I didn’t--Grantaire you know I would never intentionally… It’s just--”

 

“Shut the fuck up before I take a swing at you for real, Horel. Wouldn’t wanna hurt your pretty little  _ Alpha  _ ego--” He paused in his tracks at the familiar face. Blue eyes bore into him in a way that made a shiver of anger and something else go up Grantaire’s spine.

 

He quickly remembered himself. He cleared his throat, “You lost, Apollo? I believe the Senator’s office is a block and half the other way.” 

 

Enjolras didn’t even blink. Just stood there all tall and unaffected with his fucking pristine sweater and braided hair. The perfection of it all while Grantaire stood there a sweaty and angry mess pissed him off. “Here to pick up Feuilly.”

 

“How kind.” Grantaire said, climbing out of the ring. “How  _ noble,  _ as always.”

 

“Grantaire--”

 

“What?”

 

Enjolras paused, swallowing hard before uncrossing his arms, “You walked here, right.”

 

Not a question. “Pretty sure you already knew that.”

 

“Let me take you home.”

 

“Piss off.” 

 

“Grantaire,” Enjolras spoke, his voice firm but not demanding, “there’s no need to be confrontational. Just say no and--”

 

“No. Huh? Like that? No,  _ Alpha,  _ I don’t need a fucking escort.” Grantaire ground out. 

 

Enjolras opened his mouth before closing it abruptly, like something GRantaire said had actually stomped him. He cleared his throat, “I’m trying to be civil. Why do you always have to argue with everything I say as if I’m personally trying to attack you?”

 

Oh, God. And Grantaire just. Could. Not. Not after today.

 

“Trying to  _ attack me?”  _ Grantaire said, throwing his arms out to the side, “Let it fucking go, Apollo! Maybe you get all geared up when another  _ Alpha  _ at a rally or some shit takes a swing at you, but don’t think I can’t defend myself just cause I’m--I’m a-- _ fuck you.”  _

 

Grantaire was just about to stride past him when Enjolras’s hand clamped over his arm. Grantaire didn’t have time to think, not really, he was still in a weird haze of just leaving the ring and an Alpha had their hands on him. He snapped and his body moved almost automatically. Grantaire’s fist went flying but never met its mark right in between Enjolras’ eyes. His fist was encompassed by Enjolras’s hand and dragged down to his chest, pulling him towards him and suddenly they were too close. Way too close.

 

Grantaire tried to pry Enjolras away by a pitiful shove on the shoulder but Enjolras quickly grabbed that hand as well leaving them in a deadlock Grantaire found himself unable to escape. Grantaire’s hands were pinned to Enjolras’ sternum and their breathes and scents started to intermingle, permeating the air around them. Anger coursed through Grantaire at the prospect that he was taken down so easily by someone whose fighting experience didn’t surpass whatever schmuck he faced when a rally got out of control. It was an Alpha controlling an Omega and putting them exactly where they wanted to be. Grantaire’s blood boiled.

 

“Let me go.” Grantaire seethed, his voice a low whisper as he struggled to keep eye contact. Every instinct in him screaming at him to lower his eyes, maybe even his neck, in submission.

 

And that was what really had him struggling. Not only the anger, but the proximity of them had Grantaire’s mind flooding with shitty Omega instincts that made him want to slump into Enjolras’ arms and go pliant. The thought made him sick. Made him want  to fight Made him want to die of embarrassment and shame for wanting to all at the same time.

 

He didn’t expect resilience. Enjolras was a proud and stubborn man but he wasn’t irrational. The pin he had Grantaire in was over the top and only slightly called for due to the fact that Grantaire nearly given him a black eye. But they seemed at an impasse. Staring down one another to see who would crack and look away first. Enjolras’ hold on him tightened only for the briefest of moments and his eyes seemed to widen a fraction before he hastily backed away from Grantaire. His breathing was ragged as he took giant steps away while Grantaire remained still, staring at Enjolras like he was insane.

 

“Jesus  _ fuck,”  _ Feuilly bellowed from across the gym, “fighting is for members only Enj and that’s only when your in the damn ring Grantaire.” He approached them looking extremely put out. Grantaire couldn’t really blame him, “You guys wanna punch out whatever the fuck has been going on between you two, be my guests. But take it somewhere where I’m not fucking responsible.”

 

Grantaire was about to respond when something clicked. A scent perhaps that hit him a bit too late but nonetheless it was there. Something that sparked a memory of something Grantaire had experienced time and time again while being held down, while being bitten until he was raw, while being forced to nearly break his back while on his knees getting pounded within an inch of his life. The realization hit him so hard he almost forgot where he was.

 

_ Rut.  _

 

It was so subtle he doubted anyone within inches of Enjolras, omega or not, could’ve been able to smell it. But alas, it was there and Grantaire couldn’t deny it. Not when he looked over at Enjolras whose eyes were clamped shut and fists were clenched tightly at his sides, looking like at any moment he was about to pounce out of his skin.

 

“Let’s just go, Feu.” Enjolras said curtly before marching towards the exit, never once looking back as Grantaire stared at him in bewilderment.

 

Feuilly looked back and forth between the two of them before shrugging, “Figure your shit out before you come back here, alright R?” When Grantaire didn't respond, Feuilly tone softened, “R? You alright?”

 

“Fine.” Grantaire managed before turning around an high tailing it to the locker rooms. Now that the scent was in his mind he couldn’t escape it. Thoughts were whirling around his mind and not even Bahorel and Feuilly calling his name could distract him from it.

 

Luckily the locker rooms were empty and Grantaire didn’t waste any time sliding down against one of the lockers and firmly holding the back of his head between his knees, trying to regulate his breathing and sort out his thoughts.

 

Suddenly the strangeness of the last few weeks were finally piecing themselves together. Enjolras was in rut, or was going to be soon. The thought sat strangely within Grantaire’s mind like something he had never considered a possibility yet now it would forever haunt his dreams. 

 

The scent.  _ The scent.  _ It was unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined. It was Enjolras, a scent he had come to know almost as well as his own, and was unmistakable. There was the sharp, woodsy scent that had made his head a little too woozy after a few too many drinks with Enjolras still hanging around, but this time it was tinged with more than just anger and frustration… there was arousal there. Deep and permeate. 

 

And it made Grantaire want to fall apart. To surrender. To clap his hands above his head and go pliant beneath Enjolras’s hold. To spread his legs and let the Alpha take whatever he wanted even though he has always had all of Grantaire in one way or another.

 

The thought was horrifying. The thought was intoxicating. Grantaire and Enjolras were no longer staring one another down, but Grantaire had never felt more trapped.

 

He lost track of how long he spent in the locker room before finally managing to trudge home.


End file.
